Christmas has pretty much been cleaned out of the fridge. The ham yielded one last round of sandwiches, and the chicken a final cold cut with bubble and squeak, before the carcass was boiled for stock, picked over, and the carefully de-boned meat given to the cats. The big anxious tabby got one odd left-over sausage as well. The extra large bargain bag of Brussels sprouts, much too big for two people but it was pre-bagged and cost a pound and I had a lot of other things to worry about, yielded up a second serving of freshly cooked sprouts as well as the bubble. We still haven't started on the cheese, and there are some small oranges and half a box of politically incorrect dates left, but everything else has been eaten, mince pies, pudding, rum butter, the lot.
Total wastage, half a tin of Paxo and half a tray of pork and chestnut stuffing, which is a shame but down to the size they come in, too much for two, even if you like cold stuffing (I do, Systems Administrator not so keen). One slice of bacon that got slightly dessicated in the great Christmas lunch scramble. A mystery pork pie found in the vegetable compartment of the fridge, dated best before 16th December. The left-overs from the second lot of sprouts haven't been consigned to the food waste recycling bin yet, but I'm not sure when we're going to eat them, so perhaps they should provisionally count. I found a packet of date expired poppadums in the cupboard, which were not bought as festive fare so perhaps shouldn't be included in the wasted Christmas food total, even though it is Christmas, and they are about to be chucked out. And that's it. I shall permit myself to feel smug amidst the outbreak of media breast-beating about uneaten food at Christmas, before having to admit that even if I have not participated in the waste, I have certainly taken part in the over-consumption.
And now the new year beckons, and the Telegraph and the Guardian and the Independent and even the good old BBC are full of advice on what to do about it. What to wear to my New Year's Eve party, why I should not go to a party, why not to expect to enjoy the party, how to kiss somebody at the party, where I could go if I am not going to a party but want to go somewhere, why I should give up drink for January, why January is a dreadful time to give up anything, ten ideas for resolutions, why resolutions are a thoroughly bad idea, and how we are about to be over-run with Bulgarians and Romanians.
Let's see. We are not going to a party because we have not been asked to one. Haven't been for years. I don't think that's because our friends and relations, despite the fact that they are all planning to host marvellous parties, have decided not to invite us. I rather think they aren't holding parties, or at least, those of them that live within walking distance of each other's houses might be going around to share a ritual bottle of champagne, but that's about it. We do not live within walking distance of any of our friends and relations, or at least not the sort of distance we'd want to walk after a party.
Since we'll be at home, we'll probably wear the same clothes we normally wear at home in the middle of winter. That is, something fairly warm that the cats can moult on, claw at and dribble over without disaster. In my case, almost certainly the same thick Norwegian sweater that I'm wearing now, and have had for ages, long before Scandi crime drama became de rigueur on the TV. Good, that solves that problem. The question of having someone to kiss is very conveniently solved by my having married them nearly thirty years ago. Now that's what I call forward planning, though since the SA still has a cold, now going spectacularly chesty, we'll probably skip that bit. Instead, the SA can stare longingly at the tip of my nose and go No, I won't kiss you.
My first specifically 2014 related act will probably be to switch over to next year's calendar tomorrow morning. Then I will probably go on writing 2013 on cheques for several weeks. I thought that in 2014 I might have another go at making my own bread, try and make a routine of it. Of course I need to get my employment situation sorted out, and depending on what I'm doing I might manage to grow some vegetables (next year in Jerusalem). I will make a list of the art exhibitions I want to visit, and set about catching up with various people. I must not leave it too long before visiting my newly bereaved friend. Some time in January I must do my tax return. I will let the Romanians and Bulgarians take care of themselves. And perhaps resolve not to spend more than half an hour each day reading the websites of the Telegraph and the Guardian and the Independent and the good old BBC.
Happy New Year.
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